Twas the Talk Before Christmas
by Mousitsa
Summary: Yes, a bit late -- Sam surprises Dean with Christmas. The mixed feelings lead awkwardly to a discussion tackling a number of issues they have with each other, bringing out revealing events & emotions. Brotherly moments & angst. Some swearing. COMPLETE


AUTHOR: Mousitsa

SUMMARY: (Yes, a little late) Sam surprises Dean with Christmas, and the mixed feelings lead awkwardly to a discussion tackling a number of issues they have with each other, bringing out revealing events and emotions. Brotherly moments and angst. COMPLETE.

A/N: Maybe I should consider this as AU since I know that Show will never get this emo-angsty? LOL! I used this conversation for the Brothers to address issues and questions that I (and several SN buddies) have had with the Show this season. Their answers to each other just made us feel better in our own little convoluted SN fantasy world. This discussion is probably something that would have been best if inserted piecemeal into several fics since the Winchesters would never really wear their hearts on their sleeves to such a degree. But it's a bit of a belated Christmas present for a dear friend as well who has been urging that I include this, so it went all emo all at once. (My dear E.B., I blame you entirely for this! LOL!)

SPOILERS: events through 4x10. Rated for a few curse words.

DISCLAIMER: I looked under the Christmas tree and as much as I had hoped, Kripke did not give me the Winchesters. They still belong to him, WB, CW, and whoever else gets legal dibs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

'TWAS THE TALK BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Dean was barely gone from the motel room for less than ten minutes when he heard the familiar classic rock riffs twittering from his cell phone. He carefully dangled the two shopping bags across one arm while reaching into his pocket. As he continued making his way quickly across the parking lot to his Impala, he scrunched his head down between his upraised shoulders in a futile effort to hide from the chilly wind.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Dean. Are you on your way back?"

"Uh-huh," he mumbled while chewing on the last bite of a stick of beef jerky, swallowing quickly. "Got enough snacks to last through New Year's and six packs through the weekend. What's up?"

"Can you do me a favor?" Even though the question had the appearance of offering a choice, Sam's voice was flowing with sweet demand. "I need you pick up some of that special cold medicine. I think I may be coming down with something."

"Are you sure? You looked fine ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Please."

Dean could almost see the pleading hazel eyes through the phone, eliciting a groan. "It's gonna take me an extra half-hour out in this cold!" He let out a long sigh. "Dude, are you positive you're sure?"_ Little brothers can be so annoying. _In all honesty, he really didn't mind the annoyance; it felt normal and comfortable, and it was just so good to be able to feel it again.

"Yes, I said--"

"--All right Sammy, if you think you need it," Dean cut him off with a reserved concern as he maneuvered to get himself and all the bags into the Impala.

"Thanks, Dean." A mischievous little grin suddenly appeared on Sam's face. _Take your time, bro._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Dean returned to the motel room forty-five minutes later, the December chill was cutting deep down to his bones and it was already getting dark despite being barely early evening. He struggled to balance all the groceries while fumbling for his room key, and he was grateful his brother heard him to open the door. He stepped into the humble but warm room, looked up, then froze in surprise.

"What the... ?" his eyes darted side to side, scanning the room.

Standing in a corner was a modestly decorated Christmas tree, adorned with a multitude of lights. The tree was about four feet tall and appeared to be real; it was certainly giving off a very real pine scent that seemed to have filtered throughout the room. Tacky red and silver garland looped across the wall above the two beds, with another banner in holiday colors proclaiming "Merry Christmas" just below it. The same garland also outlined the three sides of the entry door. There were even a couple of tea candles sitting on the nightstand between the two beds, giving off a warm, peaceful glow.

"What is this?" Dean was still bewildered.

Sam stood off to the side, his tall frame slightly slouched, hands in his pockets and a sheepish grin plastered on his face. At that moment, he couldn't have been more than eight.

"It's Christmas," he shrugged, face beaming. He then reached for the grocery bags still dangling by his brother's side, and took the supplies into the small kitchenette. Dean was still looking around the room in disbelief, allowing the reality of the situation to finally sink in. For the second year in a row, his little brother had managed to surprise him on this holiday.

"I can see it's Christmas, Sam. But where'd ya get all this stuff?"

"Room next door. Bobby snuck it in and stashed it there earlier today."

"Bobby's here?" Dean's face lit up.

"Yeah, he realized we weren't gonna to make it to his place, so he came here instead. The trick was getting you out long enough so we could decorate."

"So... you don't _really_ need the cold medicine, huh?" The truth of the ruse finally dawned on him, as Sam waggled his eyebrows upwards, and a grin appeared as wide as his face.

"Bobby will be here soon. He's bringing dinner in half an hour."

Still taken aback, Dean walked over to the tree and caressed its needles, almost as if trying to verify whether it was real or not. A slight prickle on his thumb gave him the answer as he took a deep inhale of the pine aroma. He savored the moment.

"Since when are you Mr. Christmas?" Dean asked, his back still facing Sam. Secretly, a small lump was finding its way to the back of his throat as he realized to what lengths his brother had gone in order to surprise him.

"Well, this year is special. And it'll be like old times."

Dean hastily let out a quick breath in a sarcastic _humpf_, his words nearly a whisper. "Yeah, _old times_."

Sam presumed this whole setup would be a surprise for his older brother, but he was having a hard time understanding why Dean was being so distant. It certainly wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Or hoping for.

"Dude, what's wrong?" But his brother didn't answer. He stayed with his back to him, and his head shaking side to side, as if the tree had asked a question and he was saying "no".

"Dean?"

"I don't know, Sam. It's just after all the..." his voice trailed off almost inaudible.

"What?" Sam asked matter-of-factly.

"Nothin', never mind." Sam walked over and gently grasped Dean's shoulder, pulling it backwards and forcing him to turn around.

"After all the WHAT, Dean?" the younger sibling inquired gently, releasing his hold.

Their eyes met momentarily before Dean's gaze fell towards the floor staring at the uneven pattern of the worn out carpet, but never quite focusing. His jaw clenched, lips tightened, and eyebrows moved towards each other. Sam could see that Dean wanted to say something, but he didn't really want to press any further. Dean always managed to spit out whatever it was that was bothering him... you just had to be patient enough to wait for it. Problem was that Sam didn't like being patient.

"Man, why do you always do this? Something's botherin' you, but you bottle it up."

"Oh, like you don't?" He stared at his brother's face, waiting for answer he knew wouldn't come. Sam cleared his throat and struggled to find an appropriate comeback. But Dean decided to let him off the hook.

"Why'd do this, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you've never been into Christmas... why go to all this trouble?"

Sam was almost at a loss for words. It was true that his impressions of Christmas from their childhood memories didn't always equate to Dean's, even though they shared the same life events. And even last year, which may have been Dean's last earthly Christmas, was a bit forced at first. But this year was truly special. And for once, Sam had a real reason to celebrate. He just could not understand why Dean was not recognizing it. Or worse, resisting it.

"Because Dean," he stammered, his whole demeanor steeped in sincerity, "you're my brother..."

But his brother remained stoic and unresponsive. He simply removed his heavy outer jacket which was still weighing him down, tossed it on the corner of a bed, and walked in between the two beds, planting himself on the edge of one.

"Yeah, I see the family resemblance," he remarked with a bit or sarcasm.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" Sam was hurt even though he knew his brother well enough to know that any time Dean wanted to deflect attention from something, his coping mechanism was to make a joke out of it or some smart-ass remark.

"I'm not. Other than the awesome genes we share, we might as well be strangers."

Now it was Sam's turn to freeze in shock and his mouth hung open momentarily. An unwelcome chill crawled over him upon hearing the words. He made his way over to the other bed and planted himself opposite his infuriating sibling. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

Dean glared at him. "You know what I'm--."

"--Enlighten me!" he practically demanded, glaring right back.

In all honesty, Dean did not want to have this conversation. Not now, maybe not ever. He should have simply just smiled at the Christmas surprise and buried any negative feelings he was having. It was his own damn fault that it had gotten even this far. And as much as he wished he could walk away from it, he knew he couldn't. Dean's glare softened into exasperation. "It's just... just that everything's different."

"No it isn't. Or at least it doesn't have to be."

"Sam, ever since I came back, it's like there's no reason for me to be here."

"What?" Sam was simply astounded and felt a pit grow in his stomach. "How can you say that?" There was a shade of pain in his question.

"You've got your new buddy... super powers. You don't need me."

Sam was on his feet, towering over Dean. His anger forcing him to speak through clenched teeth. "You honestly believe that!?" The shock and anger made him quickly walk around the room. Dean's eyes followed the desperate pacing.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. These past months, things are just so...."

Sam made his way back and sat down on the edge of the bed once more, his anger softening. "Dean, look, a lot happened in those four months you were gone."

"A lot happened in the four years _you_ were away at school too. But I never stopped being your brother." There. He said it. And immediately regretted it seeing the utter pain in Sam's face. He closed his eyes and his face winced in regret. He could hear Sam take a long and strong inhale then let it out slowly. He was either getting ready to launch into a tirade or trying to calm himself down. Dean was really hoping for the latter. When Sam finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly rather composed, but saddened.

"That's how you feel?" his voice practically cracked. "That I've stopped being your brother?"

Now it was Dean's turn to jump up reflexively and pace. "No! It's just... no!" He held his neck with his right hand as if nursing a wound. His brain was working at a rapid pace to come up with just the right response and coming up empty. Luckily Sam let him off the hook this time.

"Look, we _both_ went through a lot during those months... and I ..." he paused and exhaled sharply.

"Sam, I know what you were going through."

"Yeah, I told you."

"No, I mean I sorta knew _before_ you told me. I just didn't wanna believe it."

This elicited an inquiring look from Sam. Dean hesitated a little. Talking about what he experienced in Hell wasn't easy and for months he had pretended not to remember. He didn't want to ever tell Sam because there was nothing Sam could do to change what had happened, and any details would only result in more pain and guilt -- for both of them. But he had just reached a point where the burden was too much to bear alone. There were already too many walls up between them and just too much distance. Once that doorway of information was partly opened, it made it possible for more to follow, ever so reluctantly. He made his way back to his seat on the edge of the bed.

"Hell wasn't just _physical_ torture, it was _emotional_ too. Like I've said before, they know our weaknesses. They showed me parts of your life playing out in full Technicolor. I figured you'd grieve at first, but with time it'd get better."

"It didn't get better." Sam confirmed quietly. Earnestly.

"I know. But I _believed_ it would... you've always been the strong one. So when they kept flashing movies, I told myself it couldn't be real. I mean, if there's one person I know better than myself, it's my own brother. At least I thought so."

Sam was almost afraid to ask. "What did they show you?"

Dean just shook his head. "A lie. It had to be a lie 'cuz, you know, demons lie, and I knew you could _never_ be a sorry alcoholic ready to blow your brains out!"

Sam swallowed hard and looked up towards the ceiling, the memory bringing a film of wetness to his eyes. It felt like Dean was staring a hole right through him.

"That was only after I tried everything I could think of to get you back and nothing worked."

"I know you tried. They had me watching when you went right back to the Hell's Gate, but without the Colt that was pointless. When you'd fall asleep surrounded by books... and booze. And being reckless in hunts, trying to catch a bullet..."

After a brief pause, Dean continued. "And they laughed. And cheered when you came close a coupl'a times, hoping to get both of us there in the pit. Laughing in my face about the choice I made."

Sam blinked quickly in succession, struggling to keep the tears back as he remembered his desperation and weakness. But his usually quiet brother didn't stop talking.

"Then you went to make a deal to switch places! But even that didn't bother me, 'cuz I _knew_ that it couldn't be true. _MY_ brother wasn't _STUPID_ enough to try to make a deal like I did!" Dean's voice was equal parts anger and sadness.

"I had to do something! I couldn't just leave you in hell!"

"So how was trading places a better option, huh?"

"Dean, you were there because of ME. I promised to save you, and I couldn't."

"Sam, I made the deal so you could _live_, not throw your life away."

Sam was ready to get defensive and explain to Dean once more how he had been the selfish one. That the reason Dean made the deal was because he was too weak to face life alone, life without his family, without his brother. But perhaps it was better to not rub salt in that old wound. At least not now. He swallowed hard and struggled to stay in control of his emotions.

"You have no idea what I was going through..."

"Yeah... I do."

"No, you don't! After I died, you couldn't even last a day before running off to make that stupid deal!"

Dean didn't respond. His silence spoke volumes.

"At least I _tried_ to go on all alone," Sam continued.

"Alone?" Dean asked incredulously, shaking his head in the negative. "You know what the highlight to the Wonderful World of Sam was? Seeing you BFF with a _demon_. That's when I knew they were full of shit! Because _my brother_ would _never_ trust a fucking demon!" Dean punched a fist into the mattress, making Sam flinch.

"But I told you how--"

"--And he sure as hell wouldn't be bumping uglies with one! So no matter how many times they showed me that same movie, I knew it was bullshit. And knowing that, got me through one more day."

"Dean, I'm sorry. It... it was wrong..."

"Sam, how? A _demon_?! The _one_ thing that completely screwed up our family. That's who you decide to hang with after I'm gone?!" Dean felt betrayed. Sam couldn't look at him anymore and he was back to pacing the room.

"She's not my BFF. It happened _one_ time, Dean. I was a mess, I was drunk, she took advantage of it. Simple as that!" Sam's arms were waving around as if swatting flies.

"She wouldn't have taken advantage if you hadn't turned your back on Bobby and trusted her in the first place."

Sam's silence spoke volumes. Dean looked over at him, waiting for some type of acknowledgment for the lack in judgment, but it never came. Sam simply shook his head, eyes looking down to the ground. "I was drunk and ..." he paused for a few seconds.

"And what?"

"... lonely, I guess."

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "You could've walked in to any bar and easily walked out with a date."

"It wasn't even about... 'that'. I felt empty, useless. And she took advantage."

"For how long?" Dean waited for an immediate answer but he didn't get one. Instead, Sam avoided his gaze so Dean stood up and got within inches of his face, green eyes blazing.

"Dammit, Sam! For how long?"

Sam looked up and instinctively leaned backwards away from Dean's anger. He wondered if his brother was angry enough to lash out again. It's not like he didn't deserve it, but it was an unpleasant experience nonetheless. He instantly felt five, having his older brother scold him for some stupid infraction. But he wasn't five any more, so he stood his ground.

"It was just the one time. I swear. I needed her to get to Lilith. And to get to Lilith, I needed something powerful." He slowly made his way back to the edge of the bed, allowing time for the information to sink in.

Dean shut his eyes, trying to avoid going in this direction of the conversation. This was already more than he could stand. But the 'something powerful' that his little brother had mentioned just happened to be Sam himself. He remembered the first time he witnessed Sam concentrate and pull the black demon smoke out of some unsuspecting possessed human, while that demon bitch Ruby watched proudly. With a little more concentration the black smoke dissipated into a puddle on the floor, killing the demon but leaving the human victim basically unharmed. He wasn't sure if he was scared _for_ Sam at the moment, or scared _of_ Sam. But there was one thing that kept ringing in his head, no matter where they were or what they were doing. And it was the words of Castiel. The words of the angel were simple and straight-forward: _stop him or we will._ It was his father's ultimatum all over again, _if you don't save Sam, you'll have to kill him._ Not that it was ever really an option in Dean's mind to begin with. At the time of Castiel's warning he didn't understand why he needed to stop Sam. But the realization quickly sunk in as soon as he witnessed this power for the first time. And that fear made him lash out the only way he knew how -- with anger. When he saw it once again as Sam struggled to banish Samhain, he was truly in awe. Because his little brother was like a super hero now, complete with a super power that can be used to fight the bad guys. But the sheer force of that power, and the physical toll it had taken on him, terrified Dean. Its use could have serious consequences on his brother's health, not to mention making him a bull's eye for the angels.

"Ya know, Sam, they didn't show me that part of the movie. So imagine my surprise when I come back and find out the psychic stuff had reached Magneto levels."

"What did you expect me to do?"

"To keep your promise."

"Dean, I did! I took care of your wheels. I remembered what dad taught me and what you taught me. But in order to keep fighting and get Lilith, I needed to use every weapon I had. _Every _weapon!"

Dean made his way back to the edge of the other bed, facing Sam once more. "Sammy, you saw what these abilities did to all those other kids."

"I'm not like them. I'm in control of this!"

"You sure 'bout that?"

"It's been working so far, and I've saved a lot of people."

"Sam, think about it. Why would the Yellow Eyed _DEMON_ give you a power that can _KILL_ demons? Certainly not out of the goodness of his heart."

"Look, I already promised I wouldn't use it." But Sam felt the need to add a disclaimer in the event his brother's life was ever in danger. "Not unless I have to."

"Jeezus, it's bad enough we always seem to have demons on our asses. But you keep using this power and the _angels_ are gonna come after you... if hunters don't find out and get you first."

"Hunters will never find out." Sam seemed so sure of himself.

"I can handle hunters!" Dean declared. "But I can't handle angels. And that scares the crap out of me 'cuz I sure as hell didn't come back to watch you die all over again!" And finally, what was truly bothering Dean, spilled out. Dean kept his gaze on Sam and the tea candles on the nightstand reflected on the wetness in both brothers' eyes.

"Dean, I'm scared too… "

"I'm not the one they're after."

"We don't know that. We don't know what Castiel wants with you, or what happens when he gets it. I mean, is he going to send you back once you've fulfilled your, um, 'holy' mission?"

Dean froze at the suggestion, his eyes fixated on Sam's. Involuntarily a knot grabbed a hold of his stomach and the blood seemed to rush out of his face making him pale. The fear of the suggestion was hard to hide and it broke Sam's heart to witness it. It was clear that Dean would do everything in his power to avoid going back there. But that mutual fear of losing each other all over again was their own personal Great Wall. Afraid to get too close and just be brothers again in the event this arrangement was only temporary.

"I guess that's something I need to ask 'im next time I see 'im." Dean tried to deflect his fear by putting some bravado into the statement as he cleared his throat.

"Ya know, Dean, I prayed. For almost a month after you died, I prayed every day going into every church I could find. And when there wasn't one around I'd still be on my knees _begging_ and _pleading_ to God to bring you back." Dean swallowed hard trying to dissolve the lump in the back of his throat and Sam continued, his voice cracking on a few words.

"And even after Ruby showed up, I still prayed. I was begging that if you couldn't come back you'd at least be taken _out_ of hell... 'cause you didn't deserve to be there. But I guess God wasn't interested in listening."

Dean paused, allowing this new revelation to really sink in. When he spoke, it was softly and with compassion. "Maybe He was. Maybe He did. Maybe that's what convinced Him to send Cas."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Why not? You can believe in God and Angels, but somehow not believe that He listened to your prayers?"

"I don't think God would listen to someone tainted by a demon."

"Sam, you've got to stop saying that."

"Why? Even _you_ look at me like I'm a freak."

"You've always been a freak," Dean smirked, but quickly became serious again. "Look, we don't know what Yellow Eyes did or why, but it hasn't changed who you are. You're still the same exact pain-in-the-ass little brother... at least for as long as I can remember." He added a smile as he finished his statement.

"Thanks." Sam reviewed the last statement in this mind. "I think."

"What have I told you, huh? That as long as I'm around--"

"--nothing bad is gonna happen to me." Sam finished the quote in his best imitation of Dean.

"Damn straight!" There was resolute confidence in his uttered words but his mind wondered what lay ahead and exactly how he was going to manage to keep his baby brother safe this time around with both demons and angels breathing down their backs.

Suddenly Sam jumped up again, remembering something. He quickly went to the tree and folded his tall frame to reach far underneath. Within seconds Dean felt the mattress dip beside him and Sam thrust a small gift into his hands. "Merry Christmas, Dean." The older man was stunned as he held the rectangular package. "Open it," Sam urged sincerely.

He gently removed the wrapping paper, tearing it in only a few places rather than ripping it to shreds, to reveal what looked like a book but was clearly a photo album. He started to flip through the collection that included memories of their family immortalized on film, showing their better, happier times. There were pictures of them as babies in the arms of their mother; family portraits, first with just Dean and then with both boys; a four-year old Dean with a three-month old Sam across his lap; pictures of their parents in solo shots and together; old pictures of their dad in the military; the whole family together in front of their house; and even a blackmail shot from a couple of years ago of Sam sleeping in the Impala and a plastic spoon hanging from his mouth. As Dean flipped through each page his face became a billboard of conflicting emotions... joy, recollection, peace, happiness, sadness, longing...

After a minute of trying to compose himself, Dean cleared his throat. "Where'd ya find all these?"

"Um, I had a few at Stanford. Plus I found some more in the trunk. Then there were the ones that Jenny had found when we went back to our old house. A few more in dad's storage... and a few in your phone. I just needed to put them all together, but now I want you to have them."

"Thanks, Sam." He could barely get the words out and he was having a hard time looking at his brother as he continued to stare at the little album. Sam may have "given" them to Dean, but he knew they belonged equally to both of them.

Sam used his elbow to give a gentle nudge. "Hey, y' all right?"

Dean was troubled. He felt like the worst older brother to ever walk the face of the earth. He could have easily picked up some little trinket from the pharmacy store -- anything that would have let Sam know he thought about him on this holiday -- but he let his insecurities and worries cloud his mind. "I just realized I didn't get you anything."

Sam's face softened. He leaned forward, head tilted sideways at an awkward angle, making some of his bangs fall in front of one eye as he looked intently at his brother. Using his right hand, he patted his brother's knee a couple of times. "Dean, you're here. That's all the gift I need." His voice wavered beneath the barely-there smile.

The brothers spent a few seconds studying each other, each wanting to say something more, but unable to speak. The lumps in their throats grew to the size of grapefruits. They both looked like pathetic little girls ready to cry their hearts out and there seemed to be an invisible magnetic force urging them towards each other because this moment certainly called out for a rare Winchester hug. But Winchesters don't cry, and they certainly don't hug. Not unless one was dead. Or had just returned from being dead.

A vigorous pounding sound quickly brought them out of their daze as Bobby's gruff voice could be heard muffled through the door. "Open up, ya idjits, I'm freezin' my assets off!"

Dean jumped up from the bed and headed towards the door, clearing his throat along the way and making an indiscriminate wave of his sleeve across his eyes. "Hey, looks like Bobby's here. Thank God, 'cause I'm starving!"

Sam smiled and nodded in agreement. It felt like a weight had just been lifted from their shoulders and that Great Wall had crumbled significantly. As he stood from the bed he paused and glanced at the tree in the corner. He followed the perpendicular line from the floor to the top. A small ornament depicting the Nativity caught his attention and he focused on it for a few seconds. In the background were the sounds of Dean welcoming Bobby, and Bobby complaining about the cold and commenting on the haphazard decorating job. Sam's gaze continued to the top of the tree where a plastic reproduction of a porcelain angel stood guard. He stared at the angel, God's dutiful soldier. And through a small grin full of emotion he mouthed the words, "_thank you_," before turning around to join his family for dinner.

~ FINIS ~


End file.
